


Like a god

by fannishliss



Series: Kink List [12]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Modification, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, It's couples therapy actually, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Steve and Bucky are the poster boys for body mod, Super Soldier Serum, Therapy, but they don't see that yet, for my kink list, not in a completely healthy way though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-18 17:10:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3577353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky are in therapy, and they talk through their physical changes.<br/>A fill for my kink list: Body Mod.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: this story moves from General Audiences to Explicit in chapter 6. 
> 
> In my mind, Theresa Johnstone is a friend of Sam's. They worked in the same practice for a while fresh out of school, before Sam went to the VA and Theresa specialized in couples therapy. Sam sent Steve and Bucky to her because he can vouch for her discretion and her personal instincts and sensitivity as a therapist. 
> 
> If after reading this you feel I made any therapeutic missteps -- please let me know! I'm not a counselor, I just write one on AO3. :D

“Today I’d like for you to talk a little bit about how your physical appearances have changed since you were young, and how those changes have affected you,” Theresa suggested.

Steve didn’t want to roll his eyes. He just kept reminding himself that this was the therapist Sam had recommended. He let out a sigh and began.

“Well, obviously, I’m 6’1” and weigh 280 pounds, instead of being 5’4” and 110 pounds soaking wet,” Steve said. “Not to mention that I can hear out of both ears now, and breathe.”

“So you’re happy with your physical changes?” she asked.

Steve glanced at Bucky, who sat unmoving as usual, staring straight ahead and not volunteering information until it was directly requested of him.

“I’d have to be crazy to be unhappy with being given the serum. I wouldn’t be alive today — I wouldn’t have the chance to help Bucky now — “

“But are you happy in your new body?” Theresa pressed.

“I don’t have the right not to be,” Steve ground out, frowning.

“Think of a time when you felt happy,” she said.

Steve furrowed his brows. “Okay.”

“Were you big like now, or small like before?” Theresa probed. “Tell us what your body felt like, and why you were happy with it.”

“It was after I rescued Bucky and the 107th from Azzano,” Steve said. “Before we went back to London. We had regrouped at our base camp under Colonel Philips, and I was so relieved that he didn’t immediately detain me for a court martial. Then all the men were sorted out — some to medical, most just got in line for showers and hot meals. And then I realized, I was standing next to Bucky and we were shoulder to shoulder, and he was alive, and so was I, and we were finally together, and I was so, so happy.”

"Thanks for sharing that, Steve," Theresa smiled.  Turning to Bucky, she asked, “Do you remember that moment?” 

“Yes,” Bucky said.

“Is that a happy memory for you?” she asked.

“No,” Bucky said flatly.

Steve’s eyes flew wide and he turned toward Bucky, wounded — but he didn’t object.

“Why weren’t you happy in that moment?” Theresa asked gently.

“Stupid punk,” Bucky said. His inflections were so empty, but his accent, his words — they were Bucky’s. Tears sprang out in Steve’s eyes. He held his breath to keep from interrupting.

“He was s’posed to be safe, back home, not there, in the mud of that stinkin hell hole. He wasn’t s’posed to go through alla that.”

“You didn’t want Steve to come to Italy?” Theresa asked.

“I wanted him to stay home, safe. It was the only thing that kept me going, some days, the thought of Steve, warm and clean in our apartment, thousands of miles from the war. And then, there he was, right there in the thick of it. He wasn’t safe at all.”

“Were you glad he rescued you?” Theresa asked.

“No,” Bucky said.

“Buck!” Steve gasped. Two high spots of color stood on his face, as he warred with his emotions, trying to let Bucky speak without judgment.

“How did you feel?” Theresa softly responded.

Bucky was silent for a moment. “Angry — angry at Steve for putting himself in danger. Afraid he’d see what was wrong with me.” He swallowed. “The changes. I felt different. I was scared. They did something to me, there. The experiments. The procedure has already started.”

Bucky twitched, his head and shoulders jerking just a little as the memories swept through him and the tension in his body grew too great.

Theresa reassured him in a calm, quiet tone. “Sergeant Barnes, this is April 4, 2015. You’re in New York City, in America. You’re safe, you’re with friends now.”

Bucky let out a shuddering breath.

Steve looked at the therapist, weary with strain. These episodes were not uncommon for Bucky.

“You okay, Buck?” Steve asked after he was breathing a little more easily.

Bucky gave a nod, and the therapist continued.

“Did you know what had happened to Bucky at Azzano?” Theresa asked.

“I should have known,” Steve said, with a miserable frown.

“Were there any other survivors who could tell you what happened?” Theresa asked.

“No,” Steve admitted. “The other Howlies, they told me, no one but Bucky made it back from whatever it was.”

“Did Sergeant Barnes tell you anything about what he’d been through?”

“He was tortured. It was hard on him. I didn’t want to dredge that up,” Steve protested.

“Mental health procedures may have been less than adequate in those days,” Theresa suggested.

“Tell me about it,” Steve said.

“What would you say to Bucky now, if you could?” Theresa said. “Think for a moment.”

Steve tried breathing in and out a few times, but he was only marginally more relaxed than Bucky. He thought for a while and finally spoke slowly. “I’d tell him he did good, taking care of his men as best he could, making it through that factory alive. I was so glad he survived. I’d tell him that if he felt like talking I’d listen and I’d never ever judge him for what happened. I’ll never be anything but on his side.”

“How do you feel about what Steve is saying?” Theresa asked.

Bucky was silent. After a long wait, he finally said, “I’m still not sure. I shoulda died then, I think. But Steve. Steve wants me… Steve still wants me here, with him. So. I guess I’m glad to be here.”

“Oh, Bucky,” Steve said, and he couldn’t hold back the tears any more.

“But I just make him sad. I make everybody sad. I’m a monster.” Bucky delivered this statement as though it were the weather report.

“Why do you think you're a monster?” Theresa asked.

“Look at me,” Bucky said. For once, his tone changed. He displayed his silver hand for a moment before shoving it away again, hidden against the arm of the couch. “This is the arm of a killer. This whole body — they needed a killer. Even inside my head — they made me a killer. Steve shouldn’t even be in the same room with me!” Bucky’s voice had risen, until Steve could hear the torment loud and clear.

“Bucky — you didn’t kill me. You saved me. You broke free. You got away from them. You did that.”

“But not before I’d done — so many things,” Bucky whispered.

“I know,” Steve said. “I know what they made you do. But you didn’t do it willingly. You tried so many times to get away… I know you’re beginning to remember those times too…”

“Yeah,” Bucky admitted.

“And Natalia,” Steve said.

“Yeah,” Bucky said.

“She told me she owes you her life.”

“That girl never owed nothing to me!” Bucky said vehemently. “She was gonna live! She was gonna make it!! I just — gave her a little encouragement.”

Steve argued gently with Bucky. “She told me — she’d never dared to imagine that anyone could cross the Red Room and get away with it. She told me how they wiped you, time after time, but you always shook it off — every time, you tried to teach her, you told her she could make it, that she was more than a weapon.”

“Pauchok,” Bucky murmured. “Little spider.” The shape of his lips almost formed a tiny smile.

“You have a lot to be proud of, Sergeant Barnes,” Theresa said. “You shouldn’t hold yourself responsible for things you did when they had you under such ruthless control. Every time you resisted, you proved what a remarkable person you were. And you should take pride in helping Agent Romanov in such a hostile environment.”

“I feel proud for you,” Steve said, with a stubborn lift of his chin he knew Bucky would recognize.

“Punk,” Bucky said, that little smile broadening.

“Jerk,” Steve returned. “Ain’t you gonna feel proud of me at all?”

Bucky turned his head and looked at Steve. His face was more alive than Steve had seen it yet. “Punk — I always been prouda you, Stevie. You’re the best — you always been the best — you always will be. You were perfect before — and now, you’re like a god. Hell, you got a friend that is a genuine bonafide god. You beside him, you’re two peas in a pod.”

“I ain’t a god, Buck,” Steve scoffed.

“Like a god, I said,” Bucky said, eyebrows twitching upward just the slightest.

“You see what I live with,” Steve said to the therapist, gratitude in his eyes, and in his choked voice.

“You’ve both done exceptionally well today,” Theresa said. “I want you to close your eyes, count slowly to ten, and focus on feeling good about sharing your feelings with each other today.”

Steve closed his eyes. His thoughts and emotions were still in a whirl, but he was amazed at the progress Bucky had shown — whether he’d shown any at all himself, he trusted the therapist and tried to give himself a little mental pat on the back.

“One last thing,” she said, very softly. “One of your goals is to re-establish safe touch. Steve, open your left hand and leave it lying there open on the couch. Sergeant Barnes, when you’re ready, if you can, slip your hand over Steve’s. If you can, just clasp hands gently, and try to focus on the care and compassion you feel for each other.”

Steve couldn’t bear to look. He kept his eyes closed and his hand open… and then, he felt it, Bucky’s beloved hand, slipping into his, taking hold. And there, flowing, just as it always had, was the soul-deep love they’d always felt for one another.

Steve could have sat there until the next age, happily crying and holding Bucky’s hand, but after a few minutes, Theresa said.

“Thank you, gentlemen, your time is up.”

They stood up, but Bucky didn’t let go.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, politely, and Steve couldn’t do more than nod.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve continue to work through their issues with all that's happened to them.

“I’m glad to see that you’ve made such great progress with touch,” Theresa said with a smile. “Can you tell me a little about how it feels?”

Steve and Bucky were sitting much closer together on the couch, and with his right hand, Bucky was holding Steve’s left. His metal arm was still hidden away in the arm of the couch.

Steve glanced over at Bucky. Bucky had a fixed look in his eye, staring as though he could avoid detection by not making eye contact, but a little of the tension had ebbed out of his body, so that he no longer seemed to be on battlefield alert.

“To me, it feels wonderful,” Steve said. “It’s not like we went around holding hands all the time — but Buck was always kind of a handsy guy — he liked to grab me and pat me and make sure I was all in one piece, that kind of thing.”

“How does it feel to you, Sergeant?”

“Selfish,” Bucky said, very quiet.

Steve flinched, but to his credit he didn’t say anything and he didn’t change his grip on Bucky’s hand at all, neither tightening up nor letting go.

“You feel selfish?” Theresa tried to clarify.

“Yes,” Bucky admitted.

“Why?” she asked.

“Steve remembers who I used to be,” Bucky said. “I used to take care of him when he was sick. I defended him when he got into fights. He doesn’t need me for those things anymore. He’s holding my hand but thinking of that guy. I’m taking something that isn’t meant for me.”

Steve looked very pained, trying not to react negatively to Bucky’s words. He looked like he was holding his breath, counting to ten, and biting his tongue all at once.

“Steve, breathe in and out before you speak, seven in, hold five, nine out,” Theresa requested.

Trembling a little, Steve followed Theresa’s directions with the calming breath.

“You feel pretty strongly about what Bucky said. Please respond with “I” statements.”

Steve took another breath and let it out, and tried to speak softly. “I can’t draw a line between who Bucky used to be and who he is now. I know a lot of bad things happened to him. …” Steve frowned and bit at his lip.

“Is there something more you want to add?” Theresa encouraged.

Steve shook his head a little and looked down, still frowning. “I’m not the same guy he knew either. I’m not that sickly little punk. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still need him. So much. I … I didn’t even know how to go on without him.”

Slowly Bucky’s head turned, so that he was looking at Steve, not straight on, but out of the side of his eyes.

“Why?” Bucky asked, very softly.

“Huh?” Steve said, glancing quickly at Theresa. She made an encouraging motion.

“Steve, make some fucking sense,” Bucky said flatly. He didn’t sound mad, just tired. “One of us is a murderer, and one of us is a national icon for everything true and good.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” Steve muttered at Theresa.

“Do you believe you are a murderer?” Theresa asked Bucky.

“My file shows that I was deployed against at least three dozen targets, and all those missions were successful,” Bucky stated. “That doesn’t even include collateral damage. I think that fits the definition of murderer pretty square.”

Theresa turned to Steve. “Steve, I’m guessing you don’t agree.”

“Not at all,” Steve said, as vehement as he could get without raising his voice. “A murderer is motivated by anger, or personal gain, or revenge — but Bucky… he was tortured into doing what he did.”

Bucky was staring again.

“Sergeant Barnes,” Theresa said, “as a therapist it’s my job to ask you your opinions on many things. But sometimes there are things I have to let you know are true. Okay?”

“Okay,” Bucky said, reluctantly.

Theresa looked straight at Bucky. “I have read that file. You were HYDRA’s captive for seven decades, and yet you were so difficult for them to control, that you were drugged, repeatedly electrocuted to the point of amnesia, and kept locked away in cryostasis. In all that time, they only risked deploying you a few dozen times — an average of once or twice every two years. In my estimate, over the seven decades you were in their hands, you were conscious for less than a year — two years at the very most. And out of that time, you escaped their control at least three times.”

Bucky tilted his head to one side, as if to say, “so?”

“What they did to you isn’t your fault,” Theresa said, firmly. “The things they made you do — you can’t be considered guilty of crimes you didn’t choose to commit. And, when they had you confused and vulnerable, many of your missions were presented to you as being in the service of the country you’d sworn to defend.”

“Mother Russia?” Bucky said bitterly.

Theresa sighed. “How much do you remember about Russia?” she asked.

“Lukin,” Bucky whispered. “Natalia, the Red Room. The language, the geography.”

“According to what I’ve been able to glean, you were deployed to the Red Room for maybe three weeks to a month. There were a small handful of other missions while Lukin had you. Do you remember any more?”

“No,” Bucky said softly.

“Like Steve, the serum enhanced your natural abilities. You remember the language and the geography because you are gifted in those areas,” Theresa said. “Your physical prowess was admirable even before the serum, right?”

Steve was listening to all this, dumbfounded. He had read the file several times, primarily looking for clues as to where Bucky might have gone after the fall of Shield. He hadn’t been able to look at it dispassionately enough to count up the days Bucky had been awake, or to estimate the full extent of his activities as the Winter Soldier.

“So?” Bucky said, aloud this time.

“You said last time you thought you were a monster and Steve was more like a god,” Theresa said. “But I’d like to challenge both of you to see yourselves in a different way.”

She paused for a moment to allow them to gather themselves.

“You were both young men when you became soldiers. Sergeant Barnes, you were given a serum that allowed you to heal from grievous injuries, and also sharpened your already highly developed tactical instincts, along with your cognitive abilities. Steve, you were more visibly transformed, but the effects were very similar to what happened to Bucky. Do the two of you feel more alike to each other, or more different?”

Steve said “alike” just as Bucky said “different.”

Steve snorted a laugh under his breath, and miraculously, Bucky’s lips twitched into a tiny smile.

“I want you to spend the time until we next meet, making lists of all the good things you think came of your transformations. Your goal is to come up with five good things for each of you. You may also feel free to make a separate list of anything that bothers you, but try to focus on the positive…”

“He’s too big,” Bucky blurted.

Steve’s mouth fell open. Theresa turned to Bucky with an open countenance, ready to listen even though she’d been drawing the session to a close.

“He’s too big. He’s a giant walking target. How am I supposed to keep him safe, when he’s throwing himself out of planes? He’s worse than he ever was! And Hydra — they’re everywhere. I should be out there, taking them down…” Bucky said, trailing off.

Theresa turned to Steve. “Steve, I’m sure you can understand Bucky’s concerns. But, can you see the positives in what he said?”

Steve turned toward Bucky. “I know it’s hard on you, Buck, but you gotta see, I can take care of myself now. I mean — even you couldn’t take me down.”

A hush fell.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, and tears sprang into his eyes.

“Oh God, Buck, I’m sorry,” Steve said. “I didn’t mean to bring that up.”

“You’re sorry,” Bucky said bitterly. “I was the one pumping you full of bullets and beating you to death.”

“But you didn’t,” Steve said. “First of all, you broke free — you saved me from the river. And second of all, I got better. It takes a lot to keep me down.”

“Always did,” Bucky said. “But at least, now, it’s halfway true insteada all in your head.”

“So that’s good thing number one,” Steve insisted. “Actually hard now to take me down, instead of just in my head.”

Bucky’s mouth twisted to the side, and he finally met Steve’s eyes. So much love flowed back and forth between them that Theresa could only sit in awe, amazed at their devotion to one another.

Their hands remained linked throughout the emotional session: they’d never even thought of letting go.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky work on their Lists for Theresa.

Steve made his lists in his ever-present little spiral notebook, using a stub of pencil.

Bucky made his lists on his StarkPhone, which he cracked and triple-encrypted within 24 hours of receiving it. Even Jarvis was impressed.

 

 

[Steve] Five Good Things about me being Big:  
Lived to see Bucky again  
Healthy now  
Helping people  
People pay attention to me now  
Run as far as I want

  
  
[Bucky]  Five Good Things about me:  
Metal arm better than no arm  
Memories of Steve coming back  
Arm debugged (no more trackers/poison/explosives/etc)  
Know a lot of languages now  
Able to Protect Steve/ watch his back (punk)

  
  
[Bucky] Five Good Things about Steve now:  
doesn't get sick any more  
survived crashing his plane into the arctic !!!  
survived Winter Soldier three times  (charm?)  
Outside matches inside now  
Gorgeous like he always was

  
  
[Steve] Five Good Things about Bucky now:  
Bucky is alive!!!!!  
Bucky came back to me / remembers me!!!  
Bucky is the most amazing man I've ever known, so brave  
Still so gorgeous (starting to like the long hair)  
Actually the arm is kind of beautiful too

  
  
[Steve] Things that bother me about me now:  
Feel fake sometimes / like I'm not the real me  
People listen to me now, but do they really care what I'm saying??  
People think they know me, but they don't  
Have to be extra careful/gentle around people  
Need to work off extra energy all the time!!

  
  
[Steve] Things that bother me about Bucky now:  
He's suffering so much about the things they made him do  
Always that damn arm, making him feel like a monster  
Flashbacks — worry me so much  
The way he hides  
I'm terrified someone will take him away again.  _**OVER MY DEAD BODY.** _

  
  
[Bucky]  Things that bother me about me now  
Murderer  
Monster  
Traitor  
Crazy / brain full of holes  
danger to Steve

  
  
[Bucky] Things that bother me about Steve now:  
Is a giant target (mentioned before)  
Still no common sense. Lacks basic skills of self preservation  
Still not a very snappy dresser — all that, but he doesn't play it up?  
Still can't cook worth a damn.  
Doesn't know a lost cause when he sees one.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought about making these in different handwriting.... decided to just post. :P


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talk about Bucky's negatives.

  
  
Steve fidgeted on Theresa’s couch like a truant called to the principal’s office, but Bucky’s low affect served him well.  If he was nervous, he no longer showed his tells.  They had emailed their lists to Theresa, but were waiting for her to guide them through the discussion process together.    
  
They were still sitting close, but Bucky looked stiffer than the previous session, leaning against the arm of the couch, away from Steve, with his right hand to himself in his lap.    
  
She smiled at them from her chair, notes in hand.    “I want to thank both of you for sharing these feelings.  You’ve been very diligent and brave to dig into these vulnerable areas.”  
  
Steve nodded and Bucky just stared. Bucky didn’t say much on a regular basis; it took a while for him to get going.    
  
“Sergeant Barnes, I’d like to start with your list of negatives.  These are some pretty difficult issues, and I want to give your concerns appropriate consideration.”  
  
She handed to Steve a piece of paper with Bucky’s terse list of bad things he thought about himself.  
  
Steve took one look at the paper and set his jaw.  His posture changed and his eyes flared, and Theresa knew, all at once, what it felt like to be in the presence of Captain America.   Steve’s speech to Shield agents at the Triskelion had gone viral, and she had heard it, but a scratchy, disembodied sound clip was nothing compared to the full weight of Steve’s charismatic gaze and the ringing tones of his conviction.    
  
“After Shield fell, Natasha and Sam and I were called before Congress to testify about what had happened.  Natasha was subjected to some nasty accusations, and it made me pretty mad. I requested a meeting with President Ellis as soon as I could, to vouch for Natasha, but also to tell him about Bucky.  Luckily, he’s a fan.”    
  
Steve grimaced and looked down for a moment. “The President’s contributions to the Smithsonian exhibit made me think that I could count on him to understand about Bucky.  Plus, I’d met him a couple of times before, after I woke up and after the Battle of New York.  He seems like a good man, trying his best to lead the country through difficult times. So, I showed him the file and told him everything Bucky was put through, and he gave Bucky a full Presidential pardon for everything that happened while he was under Hydra’s control.”  
  
Steve paused for a moment.  “Since the fall of the Triskelion, no one trusts what’s left of Shield.  No one knows who’s Hydra. Bucky was running loose, and he was taking down installations, and people died.  After he came home, President Ellis issued a second full pardon, declaring Bucky’s anti-Hydra activities to be in the service of the United States government. Not only that, he awarded Bucky the Presidential Medal of Freedom.”  
  
Theresa was surprised, to say the least.  “And none of this was made public?”  
  
Steve gave a mirthless laugh.  “James B. Barnes, born 1917, Hydra POW, Medal of Freedom recipient — it’s all public record.  No one has any reason to connect a 98-year-old World War Two prisoner of war with a deadly man in black with a metal arm.”  
  
Through all this, Bucky stared, refusing to acknowledge what Steve was saying.    
  
Theresa turned to speak to Bucky directly.    
  
“Sergeant Barnes, congratulations on receiving one of our country’s highest honors.”  
  
Bucky frowned a little but said nothing.    
  
Theresa waited a moment, but Bucky didn’t respond any further.  “You have some pretty harsh words for yourself on that list.  It’s clear that Steve and President Ellis, at least, disagree with the idea that you are a murderer or a traitor.  Do the pardons, the medal, make you feel any better?”  
  
Bucky turned his cold stare on Theresa. He was much more tense and closed off than he’d been in the previous session.  
  
“I remember the kills,” Bucky whispered.  “Some are more like a dream — others, they had me thinking I was doing the right thing.  But I remember them all, more or less.  The pardon’s a piece of paper.  Steve means well.  But it’s just a piece of paper.”  
  
“You’re not a traitor, you’re not a murderer, and you’re no more a monster than I am!” Steve interjected.    
  
Bucky clamped his mouth shut and closed his eyes.  
  
Theresa shook her head at Steve, just a little.  “The point of these sessions is to foster internal understanding.  No one can do the work of healing Bucky, except Bucky.  We all have to forgive ourselves for the things we most regret.”  
  
Steve frowned deeply.  “There’s nothing to forgive.”  
  
“A whole heap of dead bodies would beg to differ, Steve,” Bucky argued.  
  
“Hydra killed those people,” Steve said. “If they hadn’t used you, they would have done it some other way.”  
  
Bucky didn’t answer.    
  
“Why do you think you’re a danger to Steve?” Theresa asked.  
  
Bucky scowled at Theresa like she was an idiot, but his answer remained flat and even.  “I’m a target.  He’s a target.  Put us together, we’re twice as much target.  Plus, we should both be out there, taking down Hydra, instead of all this.”  
  
“Why did you come in,” Theresa asked, “instead of continuing your attacks?”  
  
“The arm,” Bucky said.  “I remembered what they could do — they could bring me down or even take me out remotely.  I couldn’t take the chance. I realized, at last, that if I never came in, Steve would never stop looking for me. Coming in was the easiest, best way to make him stop going after Hydra.  Plus, Stark debugged the arm.  I couldn’t do it myself — too many failsafes.”  
  
“You put Steve’s safety ahead of your own?” Theresa said, watching Steve.  
  
Bucky rolled his eyes.  “Ignoring the traps in my arm would significantly increase my risk of failure, capture, or death.  So coming in was for my own safety and to my own advantage.  Plus, Steve was an idiot going after Hydra by himself.  He needed better intel, better partners.”  
  
Steve shot an affronted glance at Bucky, but got no reaction.    
  
“Do you think it’s a good idea to go after Hydra on your own? Wouldn’t it be easier if you had allies, especially government approval?”  
  
Bucky frowned.  “I don’t trust anyone but Steve.”  
  
Steve huffed a little.  “I don’t trust easy either, Buck, not anymore. But there are good people out there, people we could work with while you get yourself together.”  
  
“I’m together,” Bucky insisted, not very loudly though.  
  
Theresa interrupted. “Are you well, or are you 'crazy' and 'brain full of holes'?” she asked, prompting him from his list.  
  
Steve laughed.  He couldn’t help himself.  Bucky’s wit had always been dark, and it sounded so much like him he had to laugh.  
  
“Punk,” Bucky said, but there was a hint of a smile playing somewhere in his voice. “You don’t laugh at crazy people.”  
  
“Bucky, you ain’t crazy, you’re a goddamned miracle,” Steve said, and the adoration rang out in his voice.  
  
Theresa cleared her throat.  “Please feel free to use whatever language you need for self-expression,” she said, “but in my profession we don’t encourage that word ‘crazy.’”  
  
“Sanity challenged,” Bucky said drily, and Steve laughed again.    
  
Theresa had a perfect picture of the boys they used to be — not so long ago, by their own timelines.    
  
“I’d like to go to some of Bucky’s positives now,” Theresa said, handing them a new piece of paper. “Which of these make you feel best about who you are right now?”  
  
“Well, the languages don’t do much for me at this time,” Bucky said, and Steve had to turn a bright smile into the arm of his shirt.  
  
“Jerk, be good to the nice lady,” Steve hissed, elbowing Bucky a little.  
  
Theresa watched closely as Bucky accepted the small, playful jab without tensing up much at all.  
  
“The arm,” Bucky said.  “I guess I’m kinda used to it? It doesn’t feel as much like a monstrosity now that Stark took out all the zingers."  
  
“I’m really sorry they hurt you so bad,” Steve said, looking down, “But at least the arm is good looking.”  
  
“Is it?” Bucky asked, actually turning to look at Steve.  
  
Their eyes met and held.  Steve looked up at Bucky like he had his whole life, giving his honest opinion to the one person he knew had always valued it.  
  
“Bucky, I know you know what a looker you are… that hasn’t changed at all,” Steve swore.  “You look — you look dark, okay, but beautiful — like a Pre-Raphaelite painting, or — in that poem by Byron, like the night — your long hair and your silver arm — you’re so good looking, Buck, I swear.”  
  
Theresa could see that Steve was getting through and she seized the moment.  
  
“Steve, are you afraid of Bucky’s arm?” she asked, softly.  
  
“No!” Steve replied, without hesitation.    
  
“Bucky, would you let Steve hold both your hands?”  
  
Bucky swallowed, but didn’t look away from Steve.  “You wanna?” he said.  Looking at Steve, having Steve look back, had transformed Bucky’s countenance, the flat affect opened up into so much hope and fear, trust and love.  
  
Theresa held her breath.  
  
“Course, Bucky,” Steve said, simply.  
  
Bucky brought his left arm away from the arm of the couch.  It whirred very softly as he moved it. He was wearing a black leather glove today.    
  
“If it’s easier with the glove,” Theresa said, but Bucky was already pulling it off.    
  
The hand gleamed in the light like quicksilver.  As Steve said, it was a work of art.    
  
Steve eyes shone.  He had beautiful bright blue eyes with long dark lashes, and heavy brows that broadcast every passing emotion.  Theresa had never seen anyone look more in love than Steve Rogers did, palms up, hands open to accept his partner’s touch.    
  
“They tried to make me kill you, Stevie,” Bucky mourned, as his metal hand hovered over Steve’s.    
  
“You saved me, Bucky,” Steve avowed, voice thick with emotion.  “You came back to me.  I love you, Buck, no matter what.”  
  
Bucky’s hands dropped into Steve’s like two frightened birds.    
  
“Thank you,” Steve whispered.  Softly he stroked Bucky’s hands with his thumbs, very lightly, careful not to trap him at all.  Bucky seemed almost overcome, facing Steve, eyes open, two hands held as carefully as though they were precious treasures.    
  
Theresa waited as the two men struggled with their emotions.    
  
“Remember to breathe,” she said, very gently.  Steve laughed, and some of the tension left the room.  
  
“At least he can breathe now,” Bucky muttered.  
  
“How does it feel, Sergeant?  Does it feel safe?” Theresa asked after a few more moments.  
  
“Yeah. It feels good.  It really does.” He sounded almost surprised.    
  
 “You’ve done really well today,” she said. “Can we celebrate some of Steve’s positives?”  
  
“What, he doesn’t have to go through his negatives like I did?” Bucky complained.    
  
“We’ll start with those next time,” Theresa said.  “May I read what you said about Steve?” she asked.  
  
“Sure,” he said softly, but he was still concentrating on Steve.  
  
“Steve, Bucky’s glad you don’t get sick any more,” Theresa said.  “And he’s glad that you survived when he attacked you, and flying your plane into the Arctic—“  
  
“punk!” Bucky interjected.  
  
“He says that you are gorgeous like you always were, and that now your outside matches your inside.  Would you elaborate on that last one please?”  
  
Steve was bright red, but he hadn’t looked away.    
  
“He always was like this on the inside — strong and noble, a real life hero,” Bucky said.  “But no one else could see it except me.  Now everyone can see it.”  
  
“Aw, Bucky,” Steve complained, but he was smiling.    
  
“Close your eyes, gentlemen,” Theresa said, “and count to ten.  Thank yourselves for doing such great work today.  Take time to appreciate what you have together.  I’m very impressed with you both.”  
  
Steve and Bucky held hands, breathing, relaxed, safe with each other, until Theresa let them know it was time to go.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked into the President's power to Pardon. It is constitutionally guaranteed that the President can pardon any crime whatsoever, for whatever reason, except his own impeachment, or crimes not yet committed. So they were really lucky that Matthew Ellis was the President, that he was a fan of Steve and Bucky even before Steve came back and helped save New York, and that he wasn't Hydra. I also feel like he might be a second term President eager to put politics aside and just do what he thinks is right. I don't know anything about him from other canon, except that he contributed to the Smithsonian exhibit.  
> http://www.heritage.org/constitution#!/articles/2/essays/89/pardon-power
> 
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Presidential_Medal_of_Freedom  
> The Medal of Freedom was established by Kennedy and is an honor given to civilians admired by the President. So it's not a military honor, but a great honor nonetheless. Congress approves the President's picks, so Ellis couched the award in terms of Bucky's service with the Commandos. It is an award that can be given posthumously, but no death date is mentioned.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky are continuing to get better.

  
Theresa started the session by handing them a piece of paper with Steve’s negatives on it.   Steve and Bucky read it over.  They were sitting close together on the couch, touching at the hips and shoulders, and for the first time, Bucky wasn’t hiding his arm. Theresa had to admire the beautiful metal hand, even though she knew it was part of what Hydra had done to him against his will.  

Theresa turned to Bucky first. “Sergeant Barnes, what do you think of Steve’s negatives?” 

Bucky sighed.  “Steve is a man of strong convictions.  Nothing makes him madder than when people won’t take him seriously.  I guess that’s still the same.” 

Steve was frowning at the paper. 

“Can you elaborate on these feelings for us?” Theresa asked Steve. 

“Well,” Steve said, “when I first got the serum, I was so ready to go to the front and help fight the war — and instead I ended up dancing around in a costume. I was so embarrassed about that.  And now, it seems like with the comics and the movies and whatnot, that’s what most people remember. They have very little concept of the way I actually grew up, my politics, my beliefs, things that mattered to me — any of it.” 

“What actions can you take so that you feel more genuine?” Theresa prompted. 

“I try to speak out when I can,” Steve said.  “I’m pretty torn up about Shield being so corrupted. I worked for them for almost a year, and Pierce had Bucky that whole time!  It makes me so mad!  But I know there were a lot of people working for Shield for the right reasons — some of them are still trying to clean up that mess, and no one is even helping them.” 

Bucky gave Steve a meaningful nudge with his knee. 

“We are not going anywhere until you’re in good shape. End of story.”  Bucky often mentioned Steve’s mule headedness, and Theresa could plainly see it in the set of his jaw.  

Theresa decided to chime in. “Sergeant Barnes, as your counselor, I can promise you that you are making extremely good progress.  But, I also don’t think you’re ready quite yet to return to combat.  Getting further along in your recovery now, will put you in a better place to deal with challenges down the road — do you agree?” 

Bucky didn’t meet her eye, but he wasn’t staring as defensively as he had in the past.  “Yeah.  I get it.”  Steve rocked against him with his shoulder in a comforting way.  

“Do you feel good about your choice to live in Stark Tower for the time being?” Theresa asked. 

“I do,” Steve said. “I realized that it was just pride holding me back, and when it comes to Bucky, it would be stupid not to accept all the advantages that Tony offers.  He and I don’t always get along so easy, but he’s a true friend.  Even when he found out that Hydra took out his parents, he was really graceful and kind to us about that.” 

Steve found Bucky’s warm hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.  Intellectually, Bucky knew he hadn’t killed Howard Stark and his wife of his own volition, but he was still suffering a great deal of remorse and grief over their deaths.  

“Sergeant, have you found the mantras helpful?” Theresa had provided him with a selection of mantras about grief and letting go of regrets, including the Serenity Prayer and several others. 

Bucky swallowed.  His lips moved through the Serenity Prayer while Steve held his hand and Theresa waited.  “I know I was powerless,” Bucky said, “but the grief is so strong.  It overwhelms me sometimes.” 

“It’s okay to need time,” Theresa reassured them both.  “Grief is a powerful emotion, and you need time to feel it and to heal from everything that happened.  Healing yourself is very important work — it’s the most important thing for you to be doing right now.” 

“I’m starting to understand that,” Bucky said.  His flat affect was slowly improving, session by session.  His tones were still quiet and sometimes hesitant, but he was allowing himself to show his real emotions more and more often. 

“You’re doing so well,” Theresa said. “I really am so impressed with your progress.  Now, let’s move to some of Steve’s positives.” She handed them the sheet and they looked over it.  “Steve, you lived to see Bucky again; you’re healthy now and helping people. People pay attention to you — hopefully in ways you approve of — and you can run as far as you want now.” 

“Those are all good things,” Bucky said.  

Steve smiled at him.  

Theresa gestured to the second list on the page, some of Steve’s good things about Bucky.  She read the list aloud. “Steve is so glad you’re alive, and that you came back to him and remember him.  Steve thinks you’re the most amazing man he’s ever known, so brave and still so gorgeous.  He likes your long hair and actually, he thinks your arm is kind of beautiful too.”

Bucky blushed as he took in what Steve had said about him.  Steve hadn’t let go of his hand, and his eyes glittered a little as Bucky read his words.  

“Either of you want to add anything?” Theresa asked.

“I love you,” Steve whispered.  “Jerk.”

“I love you back,”  Bucky said.  “You’re still a little punk though.” 

“I know it,” Steve said with a shrug. 

Theresa cleared her throat softly. “Part of your counseling goal was to re-establish safe touch between the two of you.  Are you happy with your progress in that area?” 

Steve blushed and smiled, while Bucky treated Theresa to one of the most smoldering looks she’d ever seen.  

“We’re gettin there,” Bucky drawled.  

“That’s wonderful,” Theresa said with a big smile.  “I’m so happy for you.” 

“It’s like a dream, sometimes,” Steve said, softly.  “We can be together now, and not hafta be afraid alla time.  We had to be so careful, you can’t imagine.”

“I’m so glad times have changed in your favor,” Theresa said.  “Just in my lifetime, things have gotten so much better.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky said, simply. 

“There are just a few more things on your lists that I want to work through,” Theresa said, handing them a final sheet.  “The things that bother you about each other.  Would it be okay to look at those things now?” 

They nodded.  Every session, they were a little more in synch with each other, steadily getting better, calmer and more relaxed.  

“Bucky, you still worry about Steve, that he’s a target and can’t take care of himself.” 

Bucky shifted a little. “Stark Tower has excellent security.  I was still pretty nervous when I wrote that list, but I’m feeling more secure now.”

“What’s this about a lost cause?” Steve said with a frown.  

“Sorry,” Bucky murmured very quietly. 

“Jerk,” Steve whispered, and brushed Bucky’s cheek with a kiss. 

Bucky’s eyes lifted and met Theresa’s, full of complications.  He was grateful that Steve could kiss him in front of her, but angry still that it had ever been an issue, and there was steel in his eyes, that he would personally take steps if it ever became an issue again.   She gave him a little nod and he slowly blinked in acknowledgement. 

“It’s true, I can’t cook,” Steve said ruefully.  

“Doesn’t stop him from trying,” Bucky said, playing up the sadness. 

“But not everyone has to be a fashion plate, Buck,” Steve groused. 

“I know Stark gave you a black card, all I’m saying is, use it.” 

“Why don’t you use it?” Steve countered. 

“Maybe I will!” Bucky answered. 

Theresa watched their interchange, how freely they bantered.  It was amazing how healthy their relationship really was, after so many horrible things had been thrown in their way. 

Their eyes moved together down the page, to Steve’s list about Bucky. 

“I’m just sorry, is all,” Steve said.  “I’m so fucking sorry you fell off that train, that I never had a chance to go after you, that they had you so long.  I’m sorry, Bucky.” 

“I know that, Steve,” Bucky said. “They told me you were dead.  They showed me the newspaper headline about the plane crash.  I know you woulda come for me if you coulda.” 

Steve leaned against Bucky for a moment and they drew comfort from each other.

“Hey,” Steve said, pointing to an item. “You’re not hiding anymore.  That, that makes me really happy.” 

“I’m trying,” Bucky said.  

“I know,” Steve said.  “You’re doing great.  About the arm too.” 

Bucky smiled a little.  “It’s not so bad, is it.” 

“Not at all,” Steve said.  “It’s part of you now, and I love every part of you.” 

Bucky let out a deep breath, relaxing against Steve.  

Theresa let the silence take hold.  “You have done so well today, gentlemen.  Thank you for all your hard work.  For next time, your homework is simply this — hold each other.  You’ve come so far with touch, and it’s making a huge difference in your ability to cope.  Keep up the good work.”

“Thanks,” Steve said. 

“Thanks, ma’am,” Bucky said, and the little smile was still on his face, making Theresa feel so happy for them both.   
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After lots of hard work in therapy with Theresa, Bucky and Steve are finally relaxed and happy together, doing well along the road of recovery. 
> 
> They daydream about sexy times!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your notes of encouragement -- now at last the payoff! in which Steve and Bucky actually enjoy their bodies and revel in the ways they are now different.
> 
> In this chapter, the story moves from General Audiences to Explicit. I hope you will enjoy.... the explicit sections are marked with = = = if you choose to skip them.

"I've received the results of your brain scans from Dr. Banner," Theresa told Bucky with a smile. "It's nothing short of miraculous how quickly and completely your brain has healed." 

Bucky's metal arm was anchored deep in his skeletal system. Even if he'd been able, mentally, to psych himself up for lying down inside an MRI machine, the arm meant that a traditional MRI was out of the question. Tony Stark had not only debugged Bucky's arm as soon as Steve brought him to the Tower, he had also dedicated himself and Bruce as "science bros" to solve the problem of how to scan Bucky's brain without an MRI. Several months of hard work had brought success, adding yet another world-changing patent to Tony's accomplishments in his new role as Merchant of Life. 

"This is Steve's brain — lit up all over the place — working overtime maybe— but perfectly healthy," Theresa said. "And this is yours. You'll notice how similar the two brains appear. Sadly, this is the brain of a soldier recently returned from Afghanistan, suffering from traumatic brain injury." The third scan was dark in places, nothing like the hyperactive brains of the two super soldiers. 

"Wow," Steve said sadly. "I guess I've always been kind of ambivalent about the serum. I never realized how lucky we both really were." 

"Yeah," Bucky said. "I wish Bruce and Tony could figure out the serum by studying us. It would be worth it if it helped people like this guy."

Steve glanced at Bucky with respect and a little surprise. "I wasn't sure you'd be able to tolerate medical testing." 

Bucky scoffed. "Trust me, Hydra weren't scientists, and they sure as hell weren't doctors — they were butchers. Nothing like Tony or Bruce in any way. And, Tony's workshop isn't the least like a Hydra facility. The smell alone." 

Steve lifted his eyebrows.

"Tony's place — engine grease, ozone, chemicals sometimes, but clean, a nice, civilized clean. Hydra? Piss, fear, blood, death — and that goddamn disinfectant everywhere. Guh." Bucky shivered at the memories and let them wash through him and away. Now that his brain was so much better, the flashbacks were much less common, and when they did occur, they were easier to shake.

"Would you like to take that step, to allow Tony and Bruce to study you? Think about it," Theresa said to both of them. 

Steve furrowed his brow. "Peggy told me that Howard had one last vial of my blood after the war — and she poured it off the Brooklyn Bridge. I feel like she did the right thing at the time... because of the cold war and the secrets and their tenuous position with SSR. Now? I trust Tony — probably even more than I trusted Howard. Tony has been through so much —plus what happened to Pepper with Extremis — and of course, everything that Bruce has gone through — they know the risks. I would trust them. It could be worth it." 

"Tony's been nothing but good to me," Bucky said. "I owe him. But, too, I feel like his motives are pure. He's richer than God, so he's not in it for the profit — just, he wants to help people now. And this might be a way for me to be a part of that." 

"I do have reservations though," Steve said. "Just look what Hydra put Bucky through. The fact that he could heal — they used that against him in horrible ways. The idea of unkillable soldiers, never allowed to stop fighting? I wouldn't stand for anything like that happening to anyone."

"You don't have to rush into a decision," Theresa reminded them. "Talk it over with your friends and work through all the pros and cons together. You have time." 

Steve smiled, and Bucky nodded. 

"So — how are things at home, between the two of you?" Theresa said, sitting back. 

It had eventually dawned on Steve that Theresa's practice was primarily in couples therapy, and that her specialty was military couples dealing with trauma. Sam had laughed his head off at Steve when the light finally turned on in Steve's head. 

"It's good," Steve said, blushing. Bucky gave her a toothy grin — he was so different now from the traumatized, stiff and terrified person he'd been at first. 

"How is the arm treating you?" Theresa asked. 

"Swell," Steve said, eyes lowered, with a private smile. Bucky chuckled softly and glanced up at Theresa. 

She'd been asking Bucky, but she was happy to hear Steve's answer. 

"Bucky, your feelings about the arm — how have they changed?" she asked. 

Bucky shrugged and held out his metal hand. "I used to be so scared of it," he said. "I hated it, what they made me do, and how they used it to control me — the drugs, the remote trackers, they shocked me with it if I was being bad... but now that's over and done with..." He rotated the hand and touched the fingertips together as he often did. "I can do amazing things with this hand. It's a part of me now." 

= = =  
Steve is on his knees, naked — so beautiful, so perfect, and so obviously in love that Bucky feels like his heart might burst from joy. 

"Let me kiss you," Steve is begging. "Please, Bucky." 

"I just want to look at you, first," Bucky says. The metal hand reaches out and tenderly brushes Steve's hair back — Bucky can feel the silky soft strands running between his fingers. Hydra never used him for anything but pain and destruction, but now, he is free, and his hand can be good to Steve. 

He offers his fingers to Steve, and feels, with never-ending awe, Steve's lush lips worshipping his hand with tender kisses. 

"Bucky, I love you, I love you so much," Steve is murmuring between kisses. 

"You want more?" Bucky says. Still fully dressed, he gestures at his fly. 

Steve looks up at him, eyes swimming with adoration. "Please," he whines, his deep voice high with desperation. 

Steve swallows him down, so hot, so good, and the metal hand pets him — Bucky's hand — holds the back of Steve's head gently, tenderly, as Steve takes him in, loving him with everything he has.  
= = = 

Bucky blinked, and snuck a look at Steve, wondering if they're remembering any of the same blissful moments, gorgeous moments so full of love and pleasure it makes his head swim. 

Steve winked, and Bucky was sure of it. 

Theresa made a little note on her pad. Bucky suspected the notes were sometimes meant just to give him and Steve a moment of privacy. 

She looked up again. "I'm so glad, Bucky." She called him Sergeant Barnes until he was confident enough to ask her to call him Bucky. 

"How about you, Steve? You initially felt like you had to be extra careful around people — has that changed at all?" 

"Not entirely," Steve said. "I'm still so much faster and stronger than anyone around me — except Bucky," he said, and again, that little private smile played across his full lips.

= = =  
Sparring with Bucky is a dream come true for Steve. 

For years before the serum, Steve had tried everything — running, calisthenics, weights. Bucky was effortlessly strong and athletic, and he tried to help Steve get stronger, but his body just wouldn't. 

Now, Bucky joins him in the gym. They spar, and it's better than dancing ever was. 

Bucky's so fast and so graceful he seems almost to float. Steve uses a lower center of gravity, knees bent, body weaving flexibly, dodging Bucky at speeds almost too fast for the human eye to follow. 

Bucky eventually remembered their first hand to hand, when he'd lost the muzzle and Steve had called him by name. He remembered that feeling of dawning recognition as he fought against Steve, the fierce joy he'd experienced as the Soldier, finally meeting a worthy opponent, someone who could fight back, someone who he wouldn't simply crush. He'd cried on Steve, recounting the memory, the gratitude he'd felt before he even knew who Steve was, only knowing that, for once, he wasn't killing. 

Now, they fight all out, no holds barred, so evenly matched they can fight for long stretches without landing a blow. It's a beautiful ballet — like the training he'd given Natalia — a celebration of survival, of living their lives to fullest they possibly can. 

Steve crouches and darts and weaves around him. Bucky springs and strikes and whirls. Their teeth are bared in the ferocity of it, till at last, Bucky stumbles and Steve is on top of him, pinning his arms and legs, holding him down, panting on top of him. 

Steve doesn't wheeze anymore, he doesn't choke, he doesn't get tired after two flight of stairs. 

Steve is his match. 

Steve adores him. 

Stark hates it when they have sex on the mats in the not-100%-private Tower facility. They do it anyway, fierce and laughing and triumphant, vying against one another. 

Steve plasters himself on top of Bucky, grinding against him. 

"Get these damn things offa me," Bucky growls, thrusting up against Steve, his erection held back by tight compression underwear. 

"Hmm," Steve says. "Maybe." And the little punk grinds down against him, his own considerable bulge restrained in a similar fashion. 

"Stevie!" Bucky whines. 

"Sh," Steve says. He splays himself over Bucky, just that much bigger: taller, broader, heavier. Bucky is faster but Steve is stronger. 

"Christ, it turns me on," Bucky says, "the way you can hold me down." 

"Yeah," Steve murmurs, "me too. Give it up, Bucky, just give it to me." Steve is mauling his neck, savage bites that sting for just a moment, playing with Bucky's healing, watching the skin go red and then fade right back to normal. He loves to pinch Bucky to watch him squirm, and then soothe and stroke so lightly with the tips of his fingers that Bucky is arching into the touch.

Soon Steve has them both peeled out of their underarmor shirts, and Bucky has his own shoes and socks kicked off, but Steve isn't moving fast enough on the shorts. 

"Steve!" Bucky begs. 

Steve just laughs and flips him onto his belly, easy as you please, biting and kissing up and down his back until Bucky is a shivering wreck. 

"Who do you love?" Steve murmurs. 

"You, Steve, I love you so much," Bucky moans, awash with sensation in the way that only Steve, like this, can give him. 

"Who loves you, Bucky?" Steve asks. 

"You do, Steve, you love me, God, you do," Bucky cries. 

"Don't you move," Steve says. "I can hold ya down, but I don't wanna hafta." Steve's native accent comes out, just sometimes, only with Bucky. 

Bucky subsides into the mat, just letting himself go, focusing on everything Stevie is giving him. 

Steve's fingers trace the waistband of his undershorts, sneaking under the elastic. 

"Mmm," Bucky says, "Stevie, please." 

"Hush!" Steve says, his fingers stilling. Bucky hushes. Stevie's fingers start up again, slower this time, creeping along the edge of the band. 

Steve starts talking. "Look at you, Bucky. So beautiful, so strong, so amazing. God, I love you. I just wanna take you apart. Can't wait to get in there, feel you opening up for me, the way you just relax and let go and let me have you..." 

Bucky doesn't have any other job, just to breathe, and lie there, and take it, as Steve, with infinite patience, slinks his hand down the back of Bucky's shorts, down the sweat-slick crevice, to his goal. Just the pad of his finger, at first, stroking, stroking so lightly, making Bucky want it so bad, but knowing he shouldn't move, knowing Steve wants him to be still, and so he just breathes, relaxing, falling deeper with every breath. The soothing finger is the only thing in the world. The tight, cramped feeling in the front of his shorts, will go away, or it won't. That's up to Steve, and nothing for him to worry about. 

The moist, gentle finger slowly works inside him. It stings a little but it quickly fades. 

"Oh Bucky, you're so good," Steve repeats. The praise sinks deep inside Bucky's head. He is loved. He is wanted. He is good. He floats on Steve's voice, Steve's touches. Everything feels so good. 

Steve is peeling the tight boxer briefs off at last. Bucky is so relaxed he hardly moves as Steve maneuvers him. He feels Steve's tongue following his finger, and heat rolls through him. He feels so good, everything feels so good. Steve opens him up, another finger, and then Steve is on him again, lying full on top of him, heavy and irresistible. 

Steve's sweet hand touches his cock, finds him hard and slick, strokes a little more out of him, moves it around to ease his own way in. 

"Okay?" he asks. Steve always asks.

"Yeah," Bucky says, the only sound he can muster from so far under. 

Steve slicks him up a little more, and slowly begins to press in. Bucky feels the inexorable slide, the stretch and give, and revels in the burn as his body lets Steve in. 

Steve glides inside him, hard where it feels so good, gentle and yet absolute. Steve conquers Bucky and rules him, like a god, like a perfect, benevolent god, a god of infinite love. 

Steve brings him off on Stark's mats, not once, not twice, three times before he's done. And he is so well done. 

They just lie there, together, on the mats in a semi public gym, laughing at the wonder of it all, wondering how long Jarvis can lock Tony out. Tony stomps in, red faced, to find them clothed and laughing and the mats well scrubbed.  
***

Theresa smiled at them as they sat close together, grinning like schoolboys, avoiding her eyes. 

"I asked when we first started working together, and I'd like to ask again — are you happy now, with the changes in your body?" 

Steve smiled at Theresa, so much happier and so much more open than he'd been when they first met. 

"Yeah," he said, Bucky at ease next to him, hands loosely entwined. 

"I'm happy," Steve said, and Bucky grinned too. 

"I'm glad," Theresa said. The two soldiers had a long life of loving ahead of them, a worthy mission very well begun.


End file.
